


Rivers Til I Reach You

by snp



Category: The 100 (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-27 22:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15695076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snp/pseuds/snp
Summary: “I know it’s a lot to take in,” Jordan Green said from behind them.Clarke’s eyes popped open. She’d forgotten that this person, half Monty, half Harper, was with them too. They turned, Clarke’s arm still looped around Bellamy’s waist, and Clarke was struck again at Jordan’s resemblance to his parents. Something inside Clarke had known, even before he’d confirmed it, that Jordan was their son. It just made sense.***AKA: the multi-shot where we get some post-5x13 angst AND some mid-5x13 angst. AAKA: 6x01 speculation that Could Never Actually Be.





	1. Nothin' is as it Has Been

**Author's Note:**

> _Been talking 'bout... the way things change._  
>  Yep, that right there is a bonafide The Heart & The Head reference. Felt fitting (because all of their music is fitting when it comes to Bellarke).

Two suns. Impossibly bright, looming out ahead of them, hanging over an eerily Earth-like planet. But it wasn’t Earth. Earth was gone, and all they had now was this new possibility for home. And each other.

It was a brand new beginning staring back at them, but it was an end to something too. All of it was happening at once, and Clarke felt pulled in two directions. The past still held such a strong grip on her; she was reluctant to leave it completely, or to forget everything that had brought them to where they stood now. And at the same time, the prospect of the future glowed warm in her heart. They could do anything, or be anything, and not even the sky was the limit.

 _Two suns,_ Clarke repeated to herself. Here she was, only days ago thinking she’d seen everything, but she’d been wrong yet again. She was wrong all the time lately. Standing out on the bridge, the tears shed for Monty and Harper still wet on her cheeks, Clarke couldn’t help but think that she might have gotten everything wrong, ever since the moment she first left space.

But then the familiar pressure of Bellamy’s hand on her shoulder pulled her out of her reverie, and Clarke told herself that it couldn’t all be wrong. Not if it led to this: Bellamy and Clarke, finally together, and on the same side again, with another chance at peace.

For just a split second, Clarke allowed herself to imagine a lifetime of binary sunrises and double sunsets.

_If only._

Clarke sighed, then leaned further into Bellamy’s side, all of her pressed against all of him. She closed her eyes, not yet willing to leave the moment. Bellamy’s breathing evened out, and he seemed to contented to settle into the respite as well. It was selfish, but Clarke wanted it to be just the two of them for a little while longer.

Except that it wasn’t just the two of them.

“I know it’s a lot to take in,” Jordan Green said from behind them.

Clarke’s eyes popped open. She’d forgotten that this person, half Monty, half Harper, was with them too. They turned, Clarke’s arm still looped around Bellamy’s waist, and Clarke was struck again at Jordan’s resemblance to his parents. Something inside Clarke had known, even before he’d confirmed it, that Jordan was their son. It just made sense.

Bellamy managed to choke out the same question Clarke couldn’t yet say: “Are you all right?”

Jordan’s shy grin reappeared. His smile was all Harper, and Clarke felt the sting so keenly she let out a small, inaudible gasp.

“I’ve... had time to make peace with it,” Jordan said, carefully choosing his words. Clarke realized he was being considerate of them, of how Clarke and Bellamy were feeling, and it only hurt her more.

“For what it’s worth,” Clarke said quietly, “you really are just like them.” Because it was exactly like both Monty and Harper to be so aware of, and delicate with, the emotions of those around them.

Bellamy nodded beside her. She could feel his heartbeat, with his chest against her back, and it was slowing now, but Clarke knew that whatever her grief was, Bellamy was experiencing the same thing, tenfold. Two pieces of his family, gone, overnight.

Jordan’s face reddened, and he pushed a hand through his hair. “Thank you. Really.”

The three of them stood for a few bloated seconds, and then Jordan spoke again.

“So… what now?” he asked.

“That’s a good question,” Bellamy said, finally breaking from Clarke’s embrace. He moved to the computer where they’d watch Monty’s tapes, then sat down and began clicking through the files left behind. Monty was gone, but they still needed his help.

_What’s up here, it’s going to save us all._

Clarke joined Jordan, placing a hand on his shoulder. She smiled at him, just briefly, then turned her attention to Bellamy’s work on the computer. “Anything?” she asked.

“There’s a lot here… gonna take a while to sort through everything. And…”

“And you think we should wake the others.”

Bellamy looked up at her. She knew him so well, even now. “Not everyone,” he said, “not yet.”

Clarke nodded, knowing exactly what he meant. There were so many people to break the news to -- and so much to figure out first. Best to do it in waves.

“Can I be helpful?” Jordan asked.

Clarke took a beat, then decided. “Will you go get Raven up?”

More smiles from Jordan. “Of course,” he said, already making his exit.

 _God,_ Clarke thought, _this is never going to stop being hard._

As soon as the doors shut closed behind Jordan, Bellamy voiced her thoughts: “Kinda bittersweet.”

Clarke met his eyes. “Yeah… but at least we still have some part of them with us.”

Bellamy hung his head, his eyes averted. “We have to try this time, Clarke.”

“Try...?”

“To be the good guys. For Monty and Harper. For Jasper. For Jaha, and Lincoln, and Gina, and Wells…”

For everyone they’d lost. It was such a long list by now. Clarke knew it well -- she carved every last name into that rifle.

Clarke pursed her lips, trying to bite back the emotion. “I know,” she said, pulling up a chair next to his. Bellamy’s eyes remained downcast, and Clarke’s heart continued breaking. Gently, she leaned forward, reaching a hand out to rest on his cheek. “We will,” she promised.

Bellamy let out an exhale, then met Clarke’s eyes. He put his own hand over Clarke’s, leaning into the contact.

Time stood still, as if they were still in their cryo pods, and suddenly the closeness was all too much.

Clarke pulled away, standing abruptly. Her chair slid a few feet, knocking into another station, and a soccer ball bounced out onto the floor, rolling past their feet.

“Clarke?” Bellamy got to his feet, grabbing Clarke by the elbow to steady her.

“Sorry,” Clarke stammered. She’d never been nervous with Bellamy before their six-year separation, and it wasn’t a sensation she particularly liked. It was wrong, to want to go backward, but Clarke missed so much about the way things used to be. About the way things were between them, most of all.

Bellamy was acutely aware of Clarke’s every movement, every subtle change on her face. He caught on quickly.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Bellamy whispered. His fingers were wrapped around her forearm.

Clarke’s gaze shifted. The air had changed somehow. “Maybe not for this,” she said back.

“You don’t think we’re past ‘I’m sorry’s?”

“Not after what I did, Bellamy.

It hung there between them. The only sound was their breathing.

Bellamy let go of Clarke’s arm, but stepped forward.

She couldn’t look at him.

“We never did get to finish that conversation, did we?” _That conversation about the radio calls I made to you, just you, for 2,199 days? The talk where I was going to finally admit, to you and to myself, that I’m in love with you? That little chat?_ Bellamy’s voice was almost playful; he was trying to lighten the mood, but the tension in Clarke was as heavy as it had been since she’d left Polis that day. She deserved to feel this way -- to carry the burden of her guilt forever -- but she knew if she had it out with Bellamy, he’d absolve her of it all. He’d say it was okay, that he’d forgiven her. They’d joke about it, as if it weren’t the gravest mistake of Clarke’s entire life. She didn’t want to make light of it.

“Raven will be here any second,” Clarke reminded him. Bellamy’s face fell, only slightly, but he recovered quickly.

“Raincheck, then,” he insisted. And because it was Bellamy, smiling at her with that smirk he reserved just for Clarke, she could not deny him.

“Okay,” she agreed, just as the doors opened back up again, with Jordan and Raven passing through them.

***

There was, as always, a lot to discuss. 

Clarke hung back a bit, not speaking much unless directly spoken to. The majority of the conversation was a back and forth between Jordan and Raven, who got on immediately. It wasn’t surprising, really, with Jordan being Monty’s son, and an apt engineer himself. It was only natural that Raven would like him immensely. They were (as much as was possible with Raven) one in the same.

Of course, all of this was after delivering the news to Raven. She’d been devastated, as Bellamy and Clarke had been, listening to Monty and Harper’s goodbyes. Clarke watched silently as Raven’s cheeks reddened, as she stifled a cry, and Bellamy reached out a hand to steady Raven when Monty’s last message ended, leaving the screen in front of them a cruel, empty black. But Raven dismissed Bellamy’s offer; she didn’t want or need another moment. Her heartbreak was channelled almost instantly into a fierce determination. “I’ve got this,” she’d said, not turning to look at Bellamy and Clarke, and instead situating herself in the Captain’s seat. “Wake up Shaw. Then let’s get us to our new home.”

And so they’d woken Shaw up too. No pleasantries were exchanged; the pair greeted each other simply, with shy “hello”s, as though it had been just one night apart (because for them, it had been). Clarke and Bellamy traded glances, both seeing themselves in Raven and Shaw.

_“Hey.”  
“Hey.”_

Not wasting any time, both pilots bent their heads together, and somehow made a lot of something out of what was, to Clarke and Bellamy, seemingly nothing. They triple-checked all of Monty’s calculations, coming to the same conclusions themselves. Yes: This, wherever it was, whatever it was, was exactly where Monty had intended them to end up.

_Home._

Or something like that.

The word weighed heavy on Bellamy. Its meaning had changed so many times. Home was the Ark, but not really. Home was his shared apartment with Aurora and Octavia. And once his mother was gone, home was just wherever his sister was. 

But then he’d gone to Earth, and though he’d tried so hard to keep home held in his fist, it had slipped through his fingers. It transformed, over and over, twisting its shape so often that Bellamy sometimes didn’t recognize it. Because the ground changed everything, and soon home was more than just Octavia. 

It somehow had expanded, and a whole floor was dedicated to the Dropship, and the camp they’d made there. One hundred bedrooms for one hundred delinquents. Then an extra one, for Raven too. Bellamy knew every face, every name, even as he lost them by the handful. Soon home had an attic, full of ghosts: it was the place where they’d dug a grave for Wells, and it was the water by the cliffside where Charlotte died, and it was the bloodied patch of moss where Clarke had put Atom out of his misery.

Home evolved again: for a few moments in time it was Mount Weather, and the hope hidden inside the mountain. Then it was Arkadia, all of the remaining stations stitched together by some loose, intangible threads. Home became the hunt for Clarke, the clash against Kane, the endless battles of the Sky People versus the Grounders. The City of Light was home to no-one, and Bellamy was never more relieved than when they’d thrown away that particular key. 

But for a long time afterwards, home was nowhere at all, because Earth couldn’t hold them anymore. For brief flickers, they had shelters: Becca’s lab, and the possibility of Cadogan’s Bunker. All along, though, space was trying to reclaim him. He knew that his people were his home--Octavia and Clarke, Raven and Murphy, Monty and Harper and Miller, especially--but some part of Bellamy couldn’t help but think that maybe the fight to survive was the only true home he’d ever know.

The truth was quite different than that. What Bellamy had come to learn, only an hour into a six-year separation, was that one part of his home had never changed. There, at the foundation, holding everything together, was Clarke Griffin. Before and during and after. Beyond space and time, one truth remained: Clarke was Bellamy’s home. Everything else could fall away, and Bellamy would still be standing. But the loss of Clarke… that was the one thing Bellamy couldn’t quite withstand. Wherever he was, whoever he was with, it would forever be missing an essential part. Bellamy was alive, and well, even, but adrift without her. 

His home was four walls, a floor, and a ceiling. It even had doors and windows. He was safe there. But it was empty.

Looking at her then, with the light of two suns splayed across the strands of her golden hair, Bellamy wished he had the words to tell her that one simple, unchanged truth. 

_I missed you like a person would miss a limb, or an organ. I felt your absence like a still-bleeding wound. I dreamt of you for 2,199 nights, and grieved your loss for every waking moment since I left you behind. I had everything, on the Ring, but it was nothing without you._

_I loved you then, even in death, and I love you now. The fact that you’re still breathing changed my entire life._

But words weren’t enough. No matter how he strung the sentence together, he knew it could never convey all that he felt. It’d be easier to rip his heart out and place in it in her upturned palm.

_Here. This is yours. It always has been, and I guess I should’ve known that it always would be._

After Praimfaya, he had vowed to honor Clarke’s memory, to live as she had asked him to live. And even though she was back now, so vibrantly and viscerally alive, Bellamy promised himself to continue on, to still be the man Clarke knew he could be.

Bellamy intended to keep that promise. To Clarke, and to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone, y'know, doesn't hate this, I'll gladly write the rest.  
> Note within the Note: I miiiight have a quote ready about how Clarke is Bellamy's miracle so...... that could be of interest to some folks?  
> Thank you in advance!!


	2. I Am on My Way Back to Where I Started

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did somebody ask for a flashback? Okay, cool, how 'bout two?
> 
> ***
> 
> Bellamy had been soothed by her words, and the knowledge that no matter how much time passed, no matter what might transpire between them, he and Clarke could always come back to this place with one another. A common ground, where their unique understanding lived, and remained rooted firmly in the earth there. Somewhere only they knew. Somewhere only they shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _We do it over and over and over again ///_  
>  _These are the places I will always go_  
>   
> 
> This chapter sponsored by (you guessed it!) another The Heart and The Head song! This one's called "Down in the Valley."  
> Apt - I know. 
> 
> Anyway: Sorry it isn't longer. More coming tho!!!  
> ENJOY.

Clarke, being Clarke, had other ideas. 

These days, Bellamy couldn’t quite pin her down. He couldn’t predict her thoughts or actions the same way he’d been able to before. He wondered if she felt the same about him -- if she too was confused by the choices he’d made, or worried that the two of them were rarely on the same page, or even in the same book anymore.

Just before they’d gone into cryo, they had shared a glance -- it was loaded, and, on Clarke’s part, knowing. Bellamy had wanted to speak to her, to ask what she made of his conversation with his sister, and to confide in her all the feelings he’d kept bubbling just below the surface. Bellamy had thought she’d wanted to talk too… But Clarke had diverted the conversation before it could even properly begin.

“I know,” Clarke had said, closing the space between her pod and Bellamy’s. “I know it’s been impossible for you. But you’ve done good, Bellamy.” The same sad smile had ghosted across her lips, then it was gone in an instant. She had stood before him, clad in Eligius-issued black, her blue eyes resting on Octavia as she slept. 

“I’m proud of you.”

Bellamy had been soothed by her words, and even more so by the knowledge that no matter how much time passed, no matter what might transpire between them, he and Clarke could always come back to this place with one another. A common ground, where their unique understanding lived, and remained rooted firmly in the earth there. Somewhere only they knew. Somewhere only they shared.

But he’d also been distracted -- too distracted to finally _say something._

Before he got a chance to decide which something he wanted to say, Clarke had spoken again. “And I know that you and I have got a lot to talk about... Ten years seems like a long time to wait, but for us it’ll just be one more night. I think we deserve some rest first, right?”

And how could Bellamy argue with that? Even if he’d wanted to put up a fight, to insist that they had done plenty of waiting, too much waiting entirely, Clarke’s words reminded him of so many conversations they’d had before… during brief respites between one war and the next. 

_Have some fun while you still can. You deserve it.  
So do you, by the way._

_I think we deserve a drink.  
Have one for me._

They _did_ deserve some rest. That much had been true for a long, long time. But Bellamy had been restless, so much so that he’d honestly believed that even the magic of cryo science would not be enough to quiet his mind and put him to sleep.

“Yeah... yeah, of course. I guess we’ll have time once we’re awake,” Bellamy had conceded. He had hoped this compromise would relieve Clarke, who seemed hesitant to confront the million things they needed to say to one another, but her face had instead fallen, if only imperceptibly. She had looked… disappointed, somehow. 

Bellamy had felt like he’d failed a test, and his heart sunk at the thought that if this had been six years ago, he would have known, without question, exactly what was happening between them. Even without words.

Unsure of what to do next, Bellamy had simply looked to Clarke, determined to follow her lead, one last time.

She had seemed to recognize this, and, stepping back toward her pod, Clarke had smiled at Bellamy. In that smile, solemn as it was, Bellamy had seen genuine affection, and some of the relief he’d been searching for moments ago.

“Goodnight, Bellamy,” she had whispered, as if she were trying not to wake the hundreds of dozing bodies around them.

A sudden urge had overtaken Bellamy then, and for a momentary but urgent flash, something primal inside him did not care if the entire remainder of the human race, who slept peacefully among them, could hear what he said back to Clarke.

He _wanted_ to them to hear it. To know.

Bellamy waited for Clarke to climb into her chamber and secure herself safely inside it. He pressed the button that slid the pod closed, and then, with a grateful surety, bid Clarke his own goodnight.  
“See you on the other side, Princess.”

***

All of that, of course, had happened in the wake of a conversation that Bellamy and Clarke _had_ allowed to unfold. Out on the bridge. Or, rather, just before the bridge.

And what a beautiful bridge it was. _Fitting,_ Clarke had been thinking to herself as she met Bellamy on the way there, stopping at the halfway point across the walkway that led to the grand room. Clarke had to remind herself not to walk right into Bellamy’s arms, and even then, they’d ended up standing so close that the toes of her boots were almost touching Bellamy’s as they came to face one another.

The meeting had felt... charged. Wired with something undeniably electric.

Only hours ago, Bellamy had told Clarke that he’d forgiven her. He’d joked that he’d done so under Madi’s command, but he and Clarke both knew better. The truth was plain: neither one of them would ever hold a lasting grudge against the other. They were Bellamy and Clarke, Clarke and Bellamy; they would forgive each other anything. It sounded like a stretch -- weren’t some things beyond forgiveness? -- but between them, nothing was unforgivable. If that was wrong, then… just this once, the two of them didn’t want to do what was right.

Though she’d been unspeakably relieved, and frankly overwhelmed, Clarke had spent the next few hours wondering at what had brought about this seemingly sudden change of heart in Bellamy. She had been grateful, of course, (and secretly so full of joy that she’d immediately found an empty closet to scream in) because Clarke had been, for days, wondering if maybe she finally had crossed the line, having left Bellamy to the fighting pits in Polis… but since that didn’t seem to be the case, Clarke was left bewildered. 

She had to know _why._

And once they’d exchanged stilted “hello”s, Clarke had been unable to wait anymore. So she’d just… blurted it right out.

“Why, Bellamy? Why now?” she’d asked.

He’d known what she meant. Naturally. With half a smile already on his mouth, he’d merely shrugged at first. When Clarke’s imperious gaze persisted, her eyebrows disappearing into her hairline, Bellamy had relented. “Isn’t that we do, Clarke? Forgive each other?”

At that, Clarke’s eyes had dropped to the smooth, marble floor. She had deflated so quickly that Bellamy had to grab her chin to bring her attention back to him.

“Hey,” he’d breathed, suddenly a bit thrown by the intimacy. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to--”

Clarke’s tone had been urgent as she cut in: “You have nothing to be sorry for, Bellamy. _That’s the point._ ” 

“Clarke…”

“Hold on. Let me… let me get this out.”

Clarke had checked the hall, half expecting an interruption, as was custom whenever her and Bellamy needed a minute to speak alone. But there was nobody there, and nobody coming. Everyone was already on the bridge, waiting for the pair of them, or tending to the wounded, or busy readying the ship for its next adventure. Whatever that might be.

When she’d realized that that it really was just she and Bellamy, Clarke had spoken, slow and as steady as she could manage.

“What I did, Bellamy… I would get it, if you could never forgive me for that. I’m never going to forgive myself. I was just so hurt, in that moment. I felt betrayed, by the one person I trusted to always be on my side. And… worse than that, I had convinced myself that you didn’t count me as part of your family anymore. There was a war brewing, and me and you weren’t on the same side. It felt, for the first time, like I really was alone. And I just kept telling myself that if all I had was Madi, then whatever else happened was worth the cost of saving her life.

I know now that I was wrong. I was _so, so_ wrong. And I don’t expect you to understand that, or accept it as an explanation. There’s no excuse. But I need you to know that _it was a mistake,_ the worst one I’ve ever made… on a very long list of mistakes. 

At the time, it felt justifiable. Just like everything we’ve done all these years to protect our people: I was willing to do whatever it took. But I wasn’t thinking straight. How could I have been? I was so crushed -- it was like having all the air stolen out of my lungs. My heart was beating out of my chest, and I just… made the wrong call.

I’ll be sorry about it for the rest of my life.”

Though her breathing had been erratic, and her voice had broken more than once, she’d said it.

And, Bellamy, god bless him, had given her a brief moment to recover before he replied. “Well… it’s about time,” he said, his words impossibly light. Clarke had thought she’d maybe heard a bit of laughter in his tone, but told herself she must’ve invented it. What was there to laugh about?

Clarke had been unable to meet Bellamy’s eyes. She looked instead out the vast window beside them, watching as the stars glittered lazily just outside the glass. It was no wonder that Raven was so smitten with the idea of spacewalking. What must it feel like, to hold out your hand and touch the galaxy? To run your fingers through stardust? To be out among the universe, instead of stuck inside a rocket?

_The ground. That’s the dream._

It wasn’t Earth, but it was definitely something.  
When Clarke had finally turned her face back to Bellamy, she’d found him already looking at her, scrutinizing her.

“I know why you did what you did, Clarke.” This was just like Bellamy, to be reassuring Clarke after she’d committed yet another monstrosity.

Clarke had swallowed, hoping to regain some composure. No such luck.

Bellamy had went on: “I never meant for you to feel the way you did. As if you were any less important to me than you were the day I left. That… couldn’t be farther from the truth.” He had sighed, seemingly amused at the thought. “The fact is that I asked Madi to take the flame not just for them, Clarke, but to protect you. Even if it meant you hating me, and I knew you would. But I was willing to do whatever it took to save your life.

...Including poisoning my sister.”

_I can’t let you kill Clarke, O.  
Here we go again… pleading for the life of a traitor, who you love._

The realization had struck Clarke so forcefully that she’d been paralyzed by it. She hadn’t even paused to think before the next question was out of her mouth: “You did that… for me?”

And just like that, every interaction since Bellamy had returned to Earth had realigned itself in Clarke’s mind, with striking new clarity. _Oh._

Bellamy’s smile had fully formed by then, soft and sure across his freckled face. He’d reached out, taking Clarke’s elbow into his hand, and pulled her into his chest. With her head tucked under his chin, Bellamy had whispered into Clarke’s hair. “ _I did it all for you, Clarke._ ”

The moment was fraught, full of unbearable potential, as limitless as the universe itself. 

And so, right on schedule, Murphy had popped into view behind Bellamy, bursting the iridescent bubble that Bellamy and Clarke had enclosed themselves in. “Come on, you two,” he’d called.

It had taken a moment for them to disentangle -- they’d been so reluctant to do so. But once they had, they’d walked together to the bridge, side by side, bumping their fingers against one another the whole way.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'ALL. My heart was fit to bursting with all the lovely feedback I got on the last chapter.  
> I'll do my best to post something new every day, if people are into that.  
> And as always, comments are more than welcome. (Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you!!!)  
> <3


	3. Just For a Moment, Let's Be Still

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Life should be about more than just surviving._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> And here, orbiting their new home, life had become that elusive _more._
> 
> Because for now, all that was left for them to do was travel, at their own pace, to Tatooine 2. Raven and Shaw set the coordinates one morning, not long after Jordan had woken them up -- three days later, maybe four? It was hard to keep count of the hours now -- mostly deciding it was best to simply follow Monty’s directions. They left Jordan the task of monitoring the route, instructing him to call for either one of them should he need a co-pilot. As for Bellamy and Clarke, Raven’s only command was to “sit back and relax… for once.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _The world's just spinning, a little too fast  
>  If things don't slow down soon we might not last  
> The world's not forgiving of everyone's fears...  
> The days turn into months, the months turn into years  
> So just for a moment, let's be still_
> 
> One more The Head & The Heart reference for you guys. From "Let's Be Still," AKA the Blarke Dream Soundtrack.
> 
> ***
> 
> Anyway: did somebody call for Soft, slightly-Domestic Bellarke? Because she has arrived, and she's here just for you.

Between Raven, Jordan, and Shaw, everything seemed to be figured out. They had mapped the course to the new planet -- they were calling it Tatooine 2 for now, thanks to Shaw, who (quite passionately) explained the reference in excruciating detail, and not just once -- matching their math to what Monty had drawn out, and they had very thoroughly exhausted all of the facts and figures contained within the Eligius III mission files, just as Monty must have done once he’d cracked the code.

Bellamy and Clarke were rendered mostly useless. They stayed close, included as was tradition on any planning or strategizing, but remained on the periphery of the action. Neither of them minded being, for all intents and purposes, benched.

Raven had said as much, teasing them. Clarke and Bellamy exchanged sheepish, lazy smiles before Bellamy replied, unbothered: “We’ve actually grown to like the sidelines, haven’t we?” Clarke could hardly contain herself, she was having so much fun doing absolutely nothing with Bellamy. The nerves she’d felt before, when it was just her and Bellamy and Jordan, had dissipated almost entirely. Now the buzz she felt in her veins was something like bliss, by Clarke’s best guess. She hadn’t experienced it in a long time -- extravagant, ceaseless happiness -- but with all of her time now filled just wasting the hours away beside Bellamy, Clarke was starting to remember the feeling.

_Life should be about more than just surviving._

And here, orbiting their new home, life had become that elusive _more._

Because for now, all that was left for them to do was travel, at their own pace, to Tatooine 2. Raven and Shaw set the coordinates one morning, not long after Jordan had woken them up -- three days later, maybe four? It was hard to keep count of the hours now -- mostly deciding it was best to simply follow Monty’s directions. They left Jordan the task of monitoring the route, instructing him to call for either one of them should he need a co-pilot. As for Bellamy and Clarke, Raven’s only command was to “sit back and relax… for once.”

So they did. Bellamy and Clarke spent entire afternoons sitting side by side in plush seats that faced out toward the big bay window, watching Tatooine 2 circle the stars, seeing as it changed from darkened night to blazing, brilliant day. Other days they went exploring the rest of Eligius IV, opening every door they could find, poking at buttons just to see what they might do. And for hours on end they played mock-soccer games, making up their own rules, continually making small dents in the ships interior whenever the ball slammed forcefully into a metal wall or ceiling. They talked about nothing and everything, especially lingering on stories from the dreaded six-year separation.

“...So, yeah, I guess it was around then that the algae stopped tasting like anything at all to me,” Bellamy said, lying on his back in a deserted engine room -- a favorite haunt of theirs, because of all the noise from the machinery. They preferred anywhere that wasn’t eerily silent (but worked hard to avoid whichever stateroom Raven and Shaw were occupying… for… reasons).

“Your mouth still twitches whenever you talk about it, though,” Clarke told him, laughing lightly, her face turned toward his.

“Does it?” he asked, reaching to brush his long fingers against his lips.

Clarke blinked, needing to look away. But her eyes landed back on him again after a brief moment.

“It does,” was all she could manage, still smiling.

“Well, we couldn’t all be so lucky, with a limitless berry supply, enough to waste for hair dye,” Bellamy said back, teasing.

When Clarke didn’t respond in kind, Bellamy turned on his side to face her. Clarke pursed her lips, in that special Clarke way, and just knowing that she was in some kind of pain had Bellamy instantly pained himself.

Before he could ask what was wrong, Clarke put in: “I used to wish for some kind of miracle… you know? On every shooting star, I would wish I could turn back time.”

 _I wouldn’t even know_   what _to wish for._

She looked down, but continued on, whispering, “But even if I could, I don’t know what I’d want to do differently. If I’d gone up with you… who knows what would’ve become of Madi? But if you had stayed with me… you wouldn’t have survived without the nightblood. And if we’d never left the bunker, Raven could’ve died alone. Or they might not have left space for Murphy and Emori down there. There were just… no good options. I think it had to happen that way.”

Bellamy considered a while. They lay like that for a time, like parentheses, curled around the space between them, their breath meeting in the middle, quietly rising up in to the air as one entity.

“I’m just glad you had her,” Bellamy finally said. “The thought of you dead was one thing...” _one unbearable thing,_ “...but imagining you down there, completely alone… I hate that.”

One corner of Clarke’s mouth quirked up. “Remember before, when I told you I wasn’t alone?”

Bellamy knew where she was headed with this. Or, he could pretty well guess. Of course, he could recall their conversation verbatim (because he held most of his interactions with Clarke close to his heart, where he could go back and replay them on a whim), but it had shifted into a brand new light after Madi had divulged Clarke’s secret, in those last tense seconds before they’d boarded the ship.

_So is surviving alone… How’d you do it?_

_Do you have_ any _idea how much she cares about you?  
She called you on the radio everyday for six years._

Bellamy had been dying to confirm the truth of this secret, to hear every last detail about it, to know that in some small way he really had helped Clarke even while he was gone, but he had resolved to let Clarke tell him when she was ready. He remembered a time, so long ago, the two of them resting against the sturdy bark of a tree somewhere on Earth, when he had asked for time to figure things out.

 _“Whenever you’re ready,”_ Clarke had said. She had granted him time, and support, and understanding, and her trust. She had given him so much. Clarke had given Bellamy hope, above all else.

The least he could do was wait for her to tell him what she wanted to tell him, in her own time. _If_ she ever wanted to tell him at all...

But a giddy, greedy part of him was recklessly glad that she did want to. At last.

“I remember,” he said, bracing himself. It took some effort to keep his face neutral.

“What I said was true, about having Madi with me. But,” Clarke took a breath, “what I really meant was that I still had _you_ , Bellamy. I held onto a radio I found in the debris at Arkadia… it felt a bit like grave robbing, but I also figured I was the last person left on the planet, so nobody would be missing it anyway… and besides, we’ve committed way worse sins than stealing, haven’t we?”

Bellamy was in no rush. He could listen to Clarke blather on for the rest of his life, and he’d be just fine with that.

“So I took it with me, wherever I went, and I called you every day… hoping that by the grace of some god out there you might hear me, and know that I was alive, down there, waiting for you to come home.” Clarke’s voice was hushed as she confided this revelation with Bellamy. Once she finished, she looked up at him shyly. Bellamy thought to respond, but then Clarke reached out, ghosting her fingers across his cheek before letting her hand come to rest against his chest, where his heart was.

“It was good for me, to let myself believe that even if you couldn’t get a message to me, you were still somehow hearing all of mine. I was desperate; I needed to believe that you’d made it... But even if I didn’t have the radio, even if I couldn’t tell myself that you heard me, I would’ve kept on talking to you anyway, Bellamy.”

Bellamy’s focus was on the softness of Clarke’s voice, but some small part of him wondered whether his heart was betraying him, thudding wildly as it was just then against Clarke’s palm. Suddenly, though, it didn’t matter. _Let her feel it,_ Bellamy thought, heedless, _let Clarke know by her own hand how my heart beats for her._

“That’s what I meant,” Clarke whispered, “when I said I wasn’t alone. I held onto you, your memory, your ghost, whatever scraps I could wrap my fingers around… and I refused to let you go. That’s how I did it… that’s how I survived.”

What words could there possibly be?

In one fervent, erratic movement, Bellamy scooped Clarke’s body up and crushed her against him. There were no bumps or bruises for consequence; they fit perfectly together. Clarke’s head settled just below Bellamy’s chin, with her lips just lightly brushing against the warm skin exposed at the crook of his neck, just as they had been a handful of times before. And her right arm, with the other left pressed between them, snaked around Bellamy’s side. Clarke’s knees had come untucked, and her legs tangled with Bellamy’s. His nose came to rest in Clarke’s hair, and he kept his arms wound across her back, keeping her as close to him as she could physically be.

They lay folded together like that, not saying anything, because they were Bellamy and Clarke, and they hadn’t needed words for a long time.

Still, there was something Bellamy really wanted to put into words. Even with his and Clarke’s apparent ability for telepathic communication, their unspoken language, Bellamy wanted to make sure nothing was lost in translation. And so he exhaled, then told Clarke a secret of his own:

“Up in space,” he started, his throat scratchy from disuse, “I thought a lot about that talk we had, about what we’d wish for, if we could.”

Clarke peered up at him, shifting slightly so they could see one another’s faces. Bellamy glanced down at her, his smile soft. If he was lacking the courage before, he had it now. _Here goes._

“And I realized, probably on the third or fourth day up there, that I would wish for you, Clarke. Alive, and healthy, and happy. Every day for the rest of your life. And even though I’m stupidly in love with you,” he paused, feeling Clarke stiffen beneath him, then went on, a laugh concealed in his next words, “even though my second wish would be for you _and me_ , my first wish would be just that: for you. For you to live, and have whatever you wanted. Everything you deserve.”

Clarke let out a shaky sound, a mixture of breath and laughter. She was too shocked to speak.

“If you really are surprised, then you’re the last to know,” Bellamy said, amused at the thought of it. _How could you not know?_

Clarke closed her eyes; she was busy repeating Bellamy’s speech in her mind, trying to memorize every last syllable before it got away from her.

She was inexplicably happy. For what seemed like the first time, fate seemed to be on their side.

“Don’t go thinking you said it first,” Clarke said, propping herself up on an elbow, so that Bellamy was looking up at her now.

 _What?_ “What?” he asked, his eyebrows drawn together.

“Mhmmm... about three hundred days in, I’d guess. And every call after that, I’d find some new way to say it.”

Bellamy was beaming, despite himself. He thought of the days when he was so easily able to keep his cool around Clarke, how fleeting those days were. “That you love me?” he asked, even though he was sure that was what she was getting at, because he wanted to hear Clarke say it.

Clarke rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she admitted, feigning that old annoyance, “that I loved you. Because I did, and I do. I've loved you for longer than I knew what to call the feeling.” She said it matter-of-factly. Then she fitted herself back against Bellamy’s chest, not looking him in the eye.

"If that makes sense," Clarke added.

Now it was Bellamy’s turn to be surprised. Even though it did make sense. He nodded, the reverberations pulsing through both their bodies, alighting across their skins.

But there was still one more thing.

“Earlier… when you were talking about miracles. It got me thinking.”

Clarke replied with a drowsy “hmm,” barely audible.

“You should know… You’re my miracle, Clarke. And people are only supposed to get one in a lifetime, but I met you and had you by my side on Earth, and now I have you back again. I don’t know what I believe, but… it’s a big universe, that much we know for sure, and I think I have more than luck smiling at me. I kinda think that something out there in the cosmos, in the great unknown, wants us to be together.”  
  
Clarke stayed quiet for a beat, then nodded. “I know we’d probably win if we did, but I don’t particularly feel like going to war with the cosmos, or the great unknown. I think we can let them have this one.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy agreed, his lips finding purchase against Clarke’s forehead, “maybe just this once.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I KNOW, I SAID I'D POST EVERY DAY, but I'm a fic writer so obviously I'm a big fat liar.  
> It's a few days late, and could probably be ~better~ somehow, but it's here now!!!  
> And it's all for you, lovelies <3  
> Truly hope y'all like it - pls drop me a comment if so, because I'm a fic writer, as I said, and... we need validation like air.  
> X's & O's,  
> snp


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